


Décollage

by pengiesama



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pengiesama/pseuds/pengiesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Armelle has a shameful fondness for romance novels, and Eren has a deep, deep fondness for her very best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Corinna for the beta-read and lesbian sex consultation services.
> 
>  
> 
> Notes on names:
> 
> Eren is still spelled "Eren" because "Erin" is too modern a spelling for my tastes. 
> 
> Armin is "Armelle" because it brings to mind caramels, but is actually a French name meaning "bear prince".
> 
> Mikasa's still a chick because it was weird as fuck with her as a dude.

The military life had its ups and downs. Every day brought with it a new opportunity to learn how to kill titans; tips and techniques on how to carve that vulnerable chunk of foul, quivering flesh from their necks. Every day they learned to soar. (If Eren broke the canopy of trees and squinted, strained her eyes, how far would she see? Past the walls? Past the horizon?)

Every day they had three square meals and a bed to sleep in, and shit, wasn’t that a change from the past few years. It had been hard – so hard, even with Mikasa and Armelle by her side. She’d always kept a shard of broken glass close for those two years. Too many fuckers thought they could take advantage of three little refugee girls with promises of food, candy, a ribbon for their hair – Mikasa could take care of herself, but Armelle…Eren had seen red when she saw that filthy pig with his filthy hands and that filthy fucking look in his eyes (hunger, hunger like that titan that had devoured her mother whole) lurch forward to try and tie a scrap of fabric into Armelle’s hair. Maybe losing three fingers off his hand would make him think twice in the future. (He would’ve lost more than that if Armelle hadn’t stopped her.)

The downs, well. She had to deal with roommates.

“Will you pipe down?” yelled Jeanne, who had no fucking place to talk considering she was yapping it up with Marcia.

Connie lobbed an apple at Jeanne’s head, charitably. Sasha had snuck them in as part of the bargain he’d struck up – the girls let him hang around in their cabin so he could make fart jokes with Connie three nights out of the week, and he brought snacks. The apple struck Jeanne right smack between the eyes, and she let out a fucking hysterical squawk of anger. Marcia hauled her back down by the hair before she could storm over to Connie, and stuffed the apple in Jeanne’s mouth so she could continue their hair-braiding session in peace. She smiled at Sasha, somewhat embarrassedly.

“Thank you again for the snacks, Aleksandr; Jeanne and I really enjoy your visits.”

Sasha gave an unattractive snort of laughter. “Aw, c’mon, only my ma calls me that! ‘Sasha’’s just fine!”

Eren didn’t mind Sasha’s visits, either, but it was mostly for the snacks. The guy had a singular talent for breaking into the kitchens. Eren rested her face against Armelle’s hair more comfortably as she scraped the last bit of fruit from the core with her teeth, drowning out the room’s noise to focus on Armelle’s soft voice. She was reading to her from her latest bookstore purchase; the latest volume of some silly popular romance series. Armelle had only guiltily professed her fondness for it – as if reading a book with some muscle-y froofy-shirted dude on the cover somehow made her lose points gained by devouring geography and history books. The book would soon be making its rounds around the girls’ and boys’ cabins (the Armelle library system was widely enjoyed by all), but as the original buyer, Armelle enjoyed the first crack at it. And Eren enjoyed the first listen.

The other trainees spent their stipends as they pleased – fresh foods from the local markets to brighten up the monotony of the daily slop from the mess, buying funny-smelling soaps and sprays to hose themselves with, sending money home to their families. The three of them, well. They didn’t have to bother with the latter, Eren thought bitterly, chucking her apple core into the pile at the head of their bed. Eren had saved up her first few paychecks for a good, sturdy pocketknife (old habits die hard), but from then on, had mostly just handed the money over to Armelle – books were expensive, after all, and Eren could deal with boring bread and the plain soaps in the showers just fine. Though the books weren’t as expensive as they ought to be, since Armelle had all the local bookstore owners charmed to bits without even trying –

The call for lights out came, and Armelle gave a frustrated little noise and tucked a scrap of paper into her book to mark her place. Sasha traipsed out of the cabin, moaning and groaning the whole way about how the boys’ cabin smelled and everyone snored; Eren didn’t doubt that for a hot second, nor did she doubt that Sasha contributed on both counts. Eren drew out her pocketknife and held it to the window; catching the moonlight to signal to the other girls’ cabin across the way – there was an answering shimmer; Mikasa was turning in for the night, too. It was weird at first, not being assigned to the same cabin as your own sister, but…Eren couldn’t help but admit the privacy was nice. As to why that desire for privacy didn’t extend to Armelle, well. Eren drew the other girl into her arms, dragging the sheet over them both. That…that was different. Somehow.

Armelle was a natural-born little spoon, Eren thought for the thousandth time over. Her tiny hands curled over Eren’s rough, calloused ones, with their bitten, dirty nails – maybe if those fancy soaps helped with any of that, she’d be interested, Eren thought with uncharacteristic embarrassment. Armelle didn’t seem to notice, in any event. She stroked the back of Eren’s hand with her thumb, her breath sighing out tiredly.

“…you sure you wanna turn in?” Eren whispered in her ear. “Moon’s bright enough to read by tonight.”

Armelle shook her head; a motion Eren felt more than saw.

“We should get some sleep. Survival training is tomorrow, if you remember the sergeant’s announcement.” Armelle peeped over her shoulder, eyes tilted in a tiny smile. “If you were listening.”

Eren huffed and pinched Armelle’s sides. “I was listening; I was just _also_ piledriving Jeanne into the dirt because the sarge decided to make the announcement during combat training.”

Eren reflected on the memory fondly. She’d have to thank Artur for showing her that move, even if he’d bruised like five of her ribs while teaching her it. Eren would also remember that squeak Armelle just made fondly, as she was quite fond of it indeed.

“So, we should get some sleep. I’ll read you the rest while we camp if we get paired up tomorrow.”

Eren rested her chin atop Armelle’s head, eyes drifting halfway shut. Camping, with just Armelle. Eren was suddenly hyper-aware of the gentle press of Armelle’s back against her chest, of the smooth, soft curve of her waist under Eren’s arm, of the tangle of her fingers with hers. Her mind began to wander, the scent of Armelle’s hair weaving its way into Eren’s brain as she drifted off to sleep.

Eren woke with a start before dawn broke, from confusing dreams that had become so common lately. There was an ache that started between her thighs, and Eren shifted uncomfortably at the feel of her soaked undergarments. Shit. Eren let out a shaky breath, and glanced down at Armelle. Armelle still slept soundly, her chin tilted up so sweetly to show the long, vulnerable line of her neck. Her golden hair made a perfect halo of her head against the pillow, and her breath sighed from her soft, pink mouth.

Eren turned away, swore again. Everyone would be woken to get ready soon enough. Might as well hit the showers before they did and get some fresh panties on.

Eren dunked her head under the water’s cold stream, felt as it washed away the sweat and the mess between her legs. She rested her forehead against the shower wall. When had those dreams started…? A few months ago? More? She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t loved Armelle, didn’t want to be near her, but those dreams, well…they were new. And considering how desperately unlikely it was that Armelle returned this new, highly physical aspect of Eren’s affections, Eren would keep mum on the situation, and handle the ruined clothes and cold showers on her own. She loved her, wanted to be near her, wanted to protect her and see the world with her. That was all that mattered.

After her (so very cold) shower, Eren made it back to the cabins in time for the morning’s weather report – Jeanne and Connie had found Bertine face-down under her bed, and after a moment’s discussion, they came to a consensus: light drizzle, chance of thunderstorms. Armelle had already dutifully packed both their bags with their raincoats, and smiled sweetly, so sweetly, at Eren as she awkwardly crouched next to her on the bed.

“Early start?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah,” Eren mumbled.

By luck of the draw, Eren and Armelle were paired together for survival training. Mikasa came over to wish them good luck, to stay safe – she kept her expression neutral as she returned to her own assigned partner, a clearly distressed Bertine, and to receive a lecture on the care and keeping of Bertine (that she was clearly only half-listening to) from Raina. As far as the boys went, Ymir was glaring bullets at Artur, who had been assigned the enviable position of Kristoff’s partner. Sasha caught Eren’s eye as she gazed upon the palpable aura of bitter resentment (Ymir) and utter apathy (Artur) that roiled between the two. Sasha gave a half-hearted wave and thumbs-up, mouthing to her, “you lucked out!” Eren couldn’t deny the sentiment.

Survival training: each group of two trainees, randomly selected, would hike a day’s length of time into the nearby wooded area. Trainee groups are required to remain out of eye- and ear-shot of each other. The groups are provided a limited amount of supplies and must make camp and make the given amount of supplies last for five days’ time, at which point they are to return to base. A five-page essay will then be due on your experiences. Eren dreaded the essay far more than the camping trip, as she wasn’t sure how she could make a lengthy narrative out of how she spent five days staring at trees, awkwardly practicing sparring with someone she couldn’t bear to actually hit, and ruining multiple pairs of underwear.

The day’s hike went without incident, though they didn’t make it as far into the forest as the others likely did – Armelle was exhausted from carrying her pack, and it had begun to rain, besides. Eren had heard stories of how the Scouting Legion often slept up in tall trees, securing themselves to thick, high branches, to protect themselves from roaming titans. Though it sounded undeniably cool, it also sounded undeniably uncomfortable, and here, safe in the training grounds, with tent-making supplies at the ready and one very exhausted Armelle, the adventures in tree-camping could wait for another night.

They crawled into their tent just as it began to rain in earnest. Armelle heaved a tired sigh, and moved hands shaking with fatigue to undo her harness. Eren tsked her tongue and swatted her hands down. Armelle ducked her head as Eren went to work.

“…sorry. I know we should have gotten farther into the woods,” she murmured.

“Like I wanted to go any further when it’s raining like this.”

Armelle ducked her head down further, craning her neck to catch Eren’s eye. Her belt buckle came loose in Eren’s hands. Eren felt her stomach twist at the look on Armelle’s face – so frank, and so tired.

“You know what I meant. I can’t even get out of my clothes by myself.”

Eren tore her gaze away from Armelle’s face, dropping them down to her boots. She tugged them off Armelle’s legs (one, two), and tossed them near the tent’s entrance, away from their beds.

“So? That’s what this training thing is for, right?” Eren shot back. She divested herself of her own harness and boots, and threw them with the rest. She’d sort out the tangled mess in the morning. “We’ll spar and hike; get your stamina up. We’ll – ”

Eren heard the shush of fabric, and looked over just in time to see Armelle shrugging her shirt off and turning away from Eren to unfasten her bra. The long expanse of her naked back, marked with bruises from the harnesses, stole the words from Eren’s mouth; stole their source from Eren’s brain. Armelle glanced over her shoulder, waiting for Eren to continue. Eren licked her too-dry lips and lowered her chin, yanking her own shirt over her head. Fuck, was this going to be a long five days.

Despite her exhaustion, Armelle was still ready with book and candle to fulfill their nightly ritual. As Armelle set to work with matches, Eren inspected the book’s cover, not for the first time. Something about the sound of the rain outside and the fresh memory of Armelle’s bare back set Eren’s teeth on edge as she stared down the over-muscled lunkhead on the cover. She flexed her own arms, experimentally. She bet she could take him in a fight –

“Eren?”

The candlelight made Armelle’s features (even) softer, (even) sweeter. After a long moment, Eren jabbed her finger at the man on the bookcover.

“Do you like guys like that?”

Armelle seemed taken aback. Her eyes flicked from the cover, to Eren’s face. “I…n-no, not especially…”

“Skinny guys, then?” Eren pressed on, almost accusingly. She didn’t even know where this was going, she, she just needed to _know_ –

Armelle worried at the hem of her sleeping shirt, anxiously. “N-no…”

Eren stared, before sitting back on her heels, defeated. “Then what kind?” she asked, soft and lost.

Armelle’s eyes met hers, brows furrowed in thought. Those eyes – god, Eren should have looked away, looked away from that searching gaze and the razor-sharp mind behind it. Armelle would figure her out in a second, soul open like this in the flickering candlelight, and she would _know_ and things would never be the same between them again. Fuck, she didn’t ever expect Armelle to reciprocate. But if she could just – just forget about it, write it off as just another of Eren’s stupid angry outbursts, still let Eren be near her to keep her safe, still tell her stories about the seas of sand and fire and even about over-muscled lunkheads –

“Eren. Do you know the reason why I picked up that book series?”

Eren stared at Armelle’s hand on her fist, not wanting to meet her eyes.

“The writing and plot are nothing special,” Armelle continued, gently unfolding Eren’s closed fist. Her fingers traced the lines of Eren’s palm. “But I was…charmed, by two of the characters. Two girls.”

Eren slanted a look at Armelle through her bangs, wondering where this was going. She scrubbed at her nose with her hand, sniffled sullenly. Armelle’s eyebrows furrowed in concern even as a helpless laugh escaped her mouth.

“I read the books to you whenever I get them, don’t you know who I’m talking about?”

“I listen!” Eren hated that wobble in her voice, fuck. “I just, I tune out sometimes when it starts going off about meat wands and some dude’s throbbing abs…”

She mostly only listened to the sound of Armelle’s voice, rather than the words she said, at least when she was reading _those_ books. Eren froze when Armelle’s hand rose to cup her cheek.

“Those girls are my favorite characters,” she said, softly. “And the author finally got them together in the book that was just published.”

Eren’s gaze was locked by Armelle’s eyes. The hand on her cheek was soft and warm, so warm, so _strong_. Eren’s hand shakily rose to cover it.

Armelle’s lips pressed together (oh, was Eren so very focused on her lips at the moment), and she continued, in a rush: “That is, it’s all very heavily implied – censorship, you know – but it’s obvious, really obvious. They exchange wildflower wreaths on the balcony at moonrise, which has long since been a symbol associated with femininity and the bonds between–”

“Armelle,” Eren very nearly sobbed out. In any other situation, she’d happily listen to Armelle wax upon natural metaphors in the literary world (probably), but fucking shit please, _please_ –

Armelle’s eyes darted to the side, abashed. “Oh. Sorry.”

Twining her fingers with Eren’s, she leaned in to press their lips together, soft, warm, like the hand on her cheek. Eren’s body went rigid; she puffed frantic breaths through her nose. After a few moments of gentle pressure, Armelle drew back (and damn it, Eren made the dumbest fucking noise when she did, like a sad cow), brows furrowed in concern. Her eyes were dark with doubt, and she cast her gaze to the floor of the tent, voice quivering.

“I…I’m sorry, d-did I misinterpret…”

Eren bleated the sad cow noise again, and lurched forward to bury her fingers in Armelle’s hair and clumsily mash their lips back together. Armelle made a warm, wordless noise that sent Eren’s mind spinning, and she wrapped her arms around Eren’s shoulders tightly. Her tiny tongue darted out to slip between Eren’s lips, nails scraping the back of Eren’s neck, and _oh_. Eren felt a familiar throb at the base of her spine, and couldn’t help the growl that escaped her throat as she leaned into Armelle; pressing forward until the other girl’s back met the floor.

“ _Eren_ ,” Armelle whimpered as Eren broke the kiss to fasten her mouth to Armelle’s neck. Fucking shit, if those noises wouldn’t do her in, then it would be from the way Armelle’s leg had just slid in between hers; pressing so innocuously but so deliberately up. Armelle squeezed her hand, and brought it up to press against her breast. Eren drew back from her neck, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. She smoothed her hand against the soft ( _soft_ ) flesh, marveling at the feel and the sound of Armelle’s tiny, shivering gasps for breath. Fuck, she – she seemed pretty sensitive. Eren gently brushed her fingertips against the peak of her nipple through the thin fabric of her nightshirt, and felt herself _ache_ at the way Armelle’s back bent into an arch at the touch.

Everything was going so _fast_ – a moment ago it was silly romance novels, and now Eren was pawing at Armelle’s boobs through her shirt. She moaned, low and hungry, and bent to Armelle’s lips again. Everything was going so fast, but what other option did they have? Five days of survival training, then back to their bunk with their million fucking roommates, then graduation and off to titan territory, and – and what if this was the only night they’d ever get, what if Armelle woke up in the morning to Eren’s messy hair and morning breath and shook her head and they never talked about it again?

(A soft, gentle part of her mind reminded her that it wouldn’t be the first time Armelle had encountered her scruffy hair and stinky breath, and yet, here she was, whimpering and sighing under Eren’s touch. Eren supposed that part of her mind had always had Armelle’s voice. She’d never taken note until now.)

Armelle’s shaking hands came down to grasp at the hem of her nightshirt. Before Eren’s mind could catch up with the situation, Armelle drew her shirt up and over her head; yanked her sleeping pants down and kicked them off her legs. She lay against the tent’s floor, a pair of panties the only scrap of clothing left on her, and stared at Eren with clear (almost challenging) eyes, despite the trembling of her limbs and the blush spreading down her chest. Eren’s mouth went dry.

“Come here,” Armelle whispered, holding out her arms.

Eren reeled into them, gratefully. She tried to still the trembling of her own hands by clasping them to Armelle’s waist, but soon found that the soft, bare flesh there did not help the matter at all. Eren let out a frustrated, strangled sound, and sucked a red kiss to Armelle’s collarbone as she moved her hand lower to trace at the waistband of Armelle’s panties. The idea of what she wanted loomed daunting. How long had she dreamed of being just like this: nuzzling against Armelle’s bare skin, Armelle shivering and begging Eren to touch her? Eren could get herself off easily enough, but this – this needed to be special, needed to be amazing. She glanced up at Armelle’s face, and fuck, the aching look there was all the encouragement she needed. Eren tugged the panties off and down (she couldn’t help but pause to press a kiss to the inside of those cute fucking knees of hers, while she was in the neighborhood), and smoothed her hand down Armelle’s thigh, cheek braced against her knee.

She tried to think of how she liked to touch herself – tried to think, in the general sense – to use that as a guide, but _fuck_ , Armelle was so fucking wet (wet because of _Eren_ ) that it sent all her thoughts into a frenzy. Eren slid her fingers up Armelle’s slit, searching, and Armelle let out a gasp, bordering on a sob, as Eren’s fingers found and rubbed at her clit. Armelle wrapped her arms around herself to try and control her trembling.

Fuck. _Fuck._ Eren sucked in a breath of air. Eren wasn’t a stranger to touching herself, but – it was so different, with another girl. The blond curls seemed so much softer than the coarse, dark hair dusted between Eren’s thighs; so soft, and thick, and damp. (Was it weird that Eren just wanted to _pet_ her there for a while? Probably. Probably really fucking weird.) Eren didn’t usually go for putting fingers in when rubbing herself off, but maybe Armelle did?  Shit _,_ this would be so much easier if she had a dick, bizarre and gross as those were. Leaving her thumb to rub at Armelle’s clit, her fingers slid down, searching for her entrance. One finger slid inside easily ( _so fucking wet_ ), two, three made Armelle wince. Eren didn’t consider herself a gentle person, but she could be, would be for Armelle. She pressed kisses down Armelle’s thigh in apology, rubbed little circles into Armelle’s clit with her thumb as she fucked her with her (two, only two, be gentle) fingers.

Armelle began to push back against her fingers with tiny little thrusts of her hips, her legs shaking, her fingers curled tight around her own shoulders. Armelle watched her with pleading eyes, bitten lips. The only thing wrong with this situation, in the midst of a whole lot of things that were very, _very_ right, was that with Armelle hugging herself like that, Eren could not see her boobs. Eren pitched forward, pried Armelle’s hand off her shoulder, and tugged her arms down – fuck, better, much better. Eren pressed her mouth to Armelle’s breast and gave the tiniest scrape of teeth, soothed with long, slow laps of her tongue. She worked the other with her free hand, gently rubbing her nipple between two fingers. Armelle’s hands clutched at her hair, and shit, even if she was tugging a bit, that wasn’t so bad, that wasn’t so bad at all.

Armelle’s back bowed into a tighter arch, her breath coming high-pitched and frantic. Eren’s thumb rubbed hard at her clit; she fucked her fingers in quicker, harsher. Her body stiffened, then went slack after a short, choked cry. Eren gave a short, punctuating kiss between her breasts, and rested her face there, trying to steady her breath. She slowly pulled her fingers out of Armelle, mindful of any pain, and absently wiped her hand on the blanket. Armelle’s eyes were hazy, cheeks and chest stained red, and she was still trying to catch her breath – Eren would have been proud of herself if she wasn’t so painfully horny still. She flexed her wrist, grimacing; fuck, that’d tired her arm muscles out way faster than any sword training ever had, even if it was a million times more enjoyable. If she was sore, though, then Armelle…Eren raised her face from Armelle’s chest, abashed. Wasn’t it just fucking typical for Eren to ruin their time together by being too rough, whether it was running too fast and making Armelle stumble and fall behind her, or by losing her damn mind in the heat of the moment and cramming as many fingers in her as she could fit –

Armelle’s eyelids fluttered, and she tried with visible effort to focus on Eren’s face. She mumbled something incoherent.

“Huh?” asked Eren, dumbly. Her tongue felt heavy and useless in her mouth.

“…said ‘take off your shirt’,” Armelle slurred, more comprehensible this time.

Oh. Eren guessed it was only fair, considering Armelle wasn’t wearing anything at all. The thing was, Eren thought, as she sat up and shucked her shirt in a single, utilitarian motion, was that Armelle was roughly a thousand times cuter than her. While Eren was proud as hell of her muscled arms and thighs, they weren’t like Armelle’s slender, delicate limbs. Her boobs weren’t small and absolutely obscenely adorable like Armelle’s – though at least they weren’t as huge as Raina’s, Eren granted. (She had _no_ idea how Raina managed to even balance with those things down her shirt, much less be second in the class.)

But maybe, maybe if Armelle always looked at her the way she was now, with her eyes so dark and hungry and blue…Armelle sat up, took both Eren’s hands in hers; laced their fingers together and kiss, kiss, kissed at her knuckles. She gazed at Eren through her bangs, shyly.

“Can I touch you?” she whispered.

Eren didn’t trust her own mouth to not embarrass her, at this point. She breathed deep, and nodded.

Armelle smoothed a hand up Eren’s stomach, palm flat against the muscles there. Her hand cupped the underside of Eren’s breast, as if she was testing its heft – satisfied, somehow, with whatever she determined, she leaned in to nuzzle with lips and cheek. Eren groaned, wretched with impatience, and covered her mouth with the back of her hand to muffle the stream of curses as Armelle sucked at her. Fuck, if she didn’t stop with those little tugs and nips of teeth, Eren was going to come without Armelle even _touching_ her and, _fuck_ , Eren needed Armelle to touch her.

Armelle’s hand snuck around to the small of Eren’s back, fingers tracing up the bumps of her spine. Her palm stopped flat between her shoulder blades. She drew back from Eren’s breasts, kissing up her chest and neck and jawline, until Eren finally got the message and removed her hand from her mouth. The touch of Armelle’s lips and tongue left her warm and lightheaded, and she leaned back until she met the tent floor; grateful for its firm support against her back and for Armelle’s weight atop her.

Armelle pulled back from the kiss. The golden hair tickling Eren’s face begged to be tucked behind Armelle’s ears, and Eren was never especially good at resisting temptation. Armelle gave a soft, approving moan as Eren mouthed at her jawline.

“Eren, you – _ah,_ you, you already took care of me,” she said, almost scolding.

Eren did not see this as a reason to remove her hands from Armelle’s breasts. There were vanishingly few reasons to do so in general, and Eren didn’t feel like thinking of any. She gave them a firm, appreciative squeeze, and her mouth continued down to suck at the join of neck and shoulder. Even if she’d already made Armelle come once that night, Eren also did not see this as a reason to not make her come again, this night or any night. Armelle caught her chin between two fingers, and guided her back up. She kissed at the corner of Eren’s mouth, breath warm and damp.

“I want to do the same to you,” she said. “Do you want me to do that?”

Eren let out a shuddering gasp. “Yeah,” she rasped. “Fuck, yes, Armelle, _please_.”

Armelle’s hands moved to the waist of Eren’s sleeping trousers, and Eren hastily helped strip them off her legs; panties and all. Eren shivered both at the cool night air and Armelle’s touch against her skin. She was – bare, exposed, vulnerable. Her heart pounded so loud in her ears; could Armelle hear it? Well, she certainly could hear that loud “fuck” that wailed from Eren’s lips as Armelle rubbed two fingers against her. Armelle’s eyes wouldn’t leave Eren’s face, and fuck, was she as quick a learner as ever – she took note of every gasp, every curse, every tiny twitch of Eren’s muscles; she figured out so, so quickly exactly how to make Eren come apart into a crying, shaking mess. Armelle bent to kiss the tears from Eren’s cheeks, her fingers not letting up for a second.

“You’re close?”

“Fuck, Armelle, I’m so fucking close, don’t fucking stop,” Eren sobbed out. Every breath felt like it was being punched out of her chest.

Armelle’s breath shivered against her cheek. “I want to put my mouth on you.”

Eren turned her face to capture Armelle’s lips with hers. Armelle accepted the kiss, briefly, but pulled back again.

“Not like that.”

Eren had less than a moment to think before Armelle slid down, down between her legs, and replaced her fingers with her tongue. Eren’s mouth fell open, but could find no breath in her lungs to make a sound. Armelle had always been good with words; being good with her mouth in general clearly followed suit. It was nothing, nothing like the way Eren would fumble at herself with her fingers, nothing like Armelle’s gentle touch – it was impossibly slick, warm, and so, so strong. Those piercing blue eyes gazed at her from between her thighs, drinking in Eren’s every reaction. Overwhelmed by the attention she was already receiving from Armelle’s mouth and hands, Eren choked on another moan and threw her forearm over her eyes. Armelle rubbed little circles into her clit with steadily increasing pressure; with her tongue working, lapping there, her fingers were free to slip deep inside Eren and curl _up_ —

Eren distantly heard her own voice, high and breaking on curses and Armelle’s name. She distantly felt Armelle’s arms around her, guiding her back to herself. Her hazy vision came back into focus just in time to see Armelle licking the remaining wetness from her lips.

“Fuck,” Eren croaked out.

Armelle’s cheeks were red, and her smile shy, but Eren could see the shimmer of pride in her eyes. “It was good?”

“Good. Really good.” An understatement, but. “Where…where did you…?”

Armelle’s eyes darted off to the side, and she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, nervous. Eren felt jealousy flare deep and angry in her heart before Armelle began to explain.

“Well, with…with censorship being as it is, with my book series, I…have to use my imagination when thinking about how my favorite characters would be intimate with each other. The male and female couples often engage in cunnilingus during their scenes.”

She bashfully met Eren’s eyes again.

“It wasn’t much of a leap of logic. All you need are a mouth and genitals.”

Relief and fondness surged through Eren in equal measure. She guessed she had something to thank those fictional over-muscled lunkheads for, if Armelle had learned _that_ vicariously through them. Eren grabbed Armelle by the arm, and dragged her down beside her. She tugged the blanket over them both, and gathered her close to her chest, resting her chin atop her golden head. Sleep, for now. Then five days where she could return the favor to Armelle all she wanted. Fuck, did she love survival training.

Armelle made a warm, wordless noise, and nuzzled at Eren’s pulse with her lips. “Will you listen closer when I read to you from those books, now?”

Eren snorted and kissed the crown of her head. “Maybe. Still gonna tune out when they’re talking about dicks, though.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren eagerly thanks Armelle for taking care of her. Eagerly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr user arlerted asked for a second chapter of this and I was like "sure."

At times, it occurred to Eren that she was shit garbage at romance.

Armelle never complained about it, no. But sometimes, Eren thought that in a situation like this, with her passed out on a bed, recovering after a transformation, with Armelle concerned and hovering over her, saying _Hanji’s checked you over, prescribed bedrest, I’ll stay here, as long as they let me, until they drag me out the door…_ well, Eren thought that she should do something smooth, instead of dry-heaving herself into unconsciousness. Eren thought –

Eren thought –

Eren’s thoughts trailed off, her entire body protesting being made to think, being made to do anything except sleep, sleep.

\--

Eren awoke to take in the dim torchlight, and found two very interesting facts awaiting her.

One, Armelle had taken off her bra and unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt.

Two, Armelle was leaning over her to tenderly press a new cool washcloth to her fevered brow.

Eren felt the traces of her weariness drain away as she took in the sight. Did Armelle know she was awake? Moreover, did she know that Eren was staring at her tits? Eren did that often enough for it not to be a surprise anymore, she hoped. With creaking bones and sore muscles, Eren leaned up to peck a sneaky kiss to Armelle’s collarbone. Armelle jerked back with a gasp.

“Eren…”

Armelle bundled herself close, tucking her chin under Eren’s. Eren ignored the ache of her limbs to better wrap Armelle in them. She pressed her cheek to Armelle’s hair and breathed deep. She was here, human, back in her own body. She was confined to a dungeon, treated as a monster and weapon both, but Armelle was here, Armelle would come close to her, Armelle would touch her gently.

Eren wet her lips, her arms lifting slowly, painfully, to slide up Armelle’s back. One hand made it with effort to slide into Armelle’s hair. Armelle tilted her chin up, her eyes meeting Eren’s, searching.

“Are you feeling alright?” Armelle shifted awkwardly, as if she was trying to take her weight off Eren, as if she was a burden instead of something warm and wonderful. “Hanji said…bedrest, and that I’d be permitted to stay down here with you until you’re recovered…”

“M’fine.” Eren’s mouth went dry as Armelle continued to squirm against her, and she tightened her grip. “Be better if you kissed me.”

Armelle gave a choked laugh, but leaned in, regardless.

Eren groaned against her mouth, her hand tightening in Armelle’s hair. Even the barest press of Armelle’s lips had set her whole body on fire. Was it leftover adrenaline from the mission? Leftover stress from controlling her titan form? The fact that she’d just gotten a glimpse of Armelle’s fucking perfect boobs? Fuck, she wanted more than just a glimpse. Eren tugged at the back of Armelle’s shirt weakly, making it slide off one shoulder. Armelle broke the kiss to cup Eren’s cheek in her hand, to press her lips to the side of Eren’s mouth, to look at Eren with those deep dark eyes and that smile, with one bare pale shoulder peeking from her shirt, fuck, Armelle, _please_.

Eren’s hands and arms seemed to be getting their strength back enough to participate – as if there was any better motivation than this. She unfastened the last few buttons of Armelle’s shirt with shaking fingers, and shoved it off Armelle’s shoulders. Eren had no idea, none at all, why people seemed to only talk about big tits being attractive. Armelle’s fit so small and sweetly into the palm of Eren’s hands, and fuck, they were sensitive. Eren could probably make Armelle come just by tucking close to her, stomach to back, and rub and squeeze and _pinch_ until Armelle came apart in her arms. That was for another time, though; a time when Eren wasn’t aching with both exhaustion and the need to get her tongue in Armelle’s pussy as soon as possible.

For now, she would do with drawing Armelle down to her so she could suck on her boobs. Armelle choked out a sob of Eren’s name as Eren closed her lips around her nipple, her other hand coming up to squeeze and rub at her other breast. Her tongue teased at the stiff little nub and then traced over and between to give the other the same attention. She could feel Armelle trembling against her, fingers tight in Eren’s hair. Eren nudged her knee between Armelle’s legs and was more than pleased by the sound Armelle made as she rubbed herself against Eren’s thigh. She was fucking delighted by it, really. Eren’s hand gave one last squeeze to Armelle’s breast ( _I’ll be back, my beautiful squishy darling_ ) before drifting down to unfasten Armelle’s trousers and shove them and her panties down and off her hips.

Eren bit back a moan of her own as her fingers met with hot, slick flesh and soft, damp blond curls. Armelle knew enough of Eren’s weaknesses, so it was only fair Eren knew that loving, careful attention to Armelle’s boobs got her soaking wet in a matter of minutes. Fuck, she was just sensitive all over, trembling and whimpering and wet from _Eren’s_ touch, _Eren_ ’s lips and tongue. Lately, it seemed all that the world wanted from Eren was for her to become the thing she hated, to prove her worth as a weapon under their burning judgmental glare. With Armelle, she could remember, she could forget, she could touch and be touched gently.

Eren rubbed at Armelle’s clit with the heel of her hand as her fingers dipped inside. Her other hand returned to Armelle’s breast ( _hello my angel, I have returned_ ), and Armelle’s hand flew up to cover the moan that tore from her throat. Her hips rolled against Eren’s hand, the fine muscles in her thighs tight and shivering. Eren’s cunt ached at the sight. She wanted to taste her, to get her face between Armelle’s thighs and lick down and in, but Eren could barely lift herself off her back. After a few moments of exquisite despair – exquisite because despite the circumstances Armelle was still naked and rubbing herself against Eren’s hand – a brilliant compromise came to mind.

“Armelle,” Eren said, hoarsely. “Sit on my face so I can eat you out.”

Armelle hesitated for barely a moment, processing the request, before flushing deep red from her cheeks to her chest. (Eren admired the sight with intense fondness. Armelle’s boobs were wonderful enough, but now they were _blushing_ and _fuck_ was that adorable.) Despite her blush, she kicked her pants off completely and crawled up. She delicately set her knees on either side of Eren’s head and grasped at the wooden headboard for balance. Eren took a brief moment to admire the sight above her before her hands wrapped around Armelle’s hips to yank her down.

The sweet salty taste burst on Eren’s tongue as she licked along the length of Armelle’s pussy, wriggling her tongue between the folds to press and tease at her clit. Armelle’s hips bucked forward, and Eren’s fingers dug into Armelle’s hips and ass to hold her in place while her tongue dove in to taste her from the inside. The grip of her fingers would leave bruises, later, and later, when Eren was lucid again, she’d wince at the purple marks, evidence that she couldn’t control herself even with the one person who deserved all the gentleness in the world. But Armelle just continued to urge her on with sounds and words and the movement of her hips, and Eren continued to suck and lap and fuck Armelle with her tongue until the only words spilling from Armelle’s lips were _yes, oh Eren, please, more_. Armelle came with a barely-muffled cry and frantically grinded herself against Eren’s tongue, riding it out until she crumpled against her arms on the headboard to catch her breath. Eren came up to catch her own breath, pressing kisses along Armelle’s stomach and hipbones between gasps for air. (“You should come up for air more,” Armelle had said once, after Eren had finished her. Eren had just snorted dismissively and wiped the remaining wetness off her face with the back of her hand. As if breathing had anything on eating Armelle’s pussy.)

“Eren,” Armelle said, low and soft. Her fingers threaded into Eren’s hair and cradled her head against her stomach.

Eren glanced up to meet Armelle’s eyes, her gaze so fond and sweet, her eyes shining and skin flushed. Eren couldn’t stop the whimper that bubbled from her chest, nor the throb between her thighs that reminded her of her own need.

“Need you…” Eren’s breath shivered out in a sigh, and she tucked her fevered cheek against the cool skin of Armelle’s belly for relief. “Need you really fucking bad.”

Armelle slid down Eren’s body so her lips were again in reach, and pressed a few quick kisses to her mouth before rucking Eren’s shirt up around her armpits. She apparently wasn’t wearing a bra either – some kind soul must have taken care of that when getting Eren into a nightshirt. The thought that it was Armelle warmed her. The feel of Armelle nuzzling the underside of her breast warmed her further. While Armelle’s tongue and teeth worked Eren’s nipples, Armelle’s hands deftly plunged into Eren’s sleeping pants. One squeezed at Eren’s ass while the other went to work on her clit, pressing and rubbing with tiny perfect fingers exactly how she’d learned Eren loved it. Armelle watched her with lidded eyes, rubbed her cheek against the curve of Eren’s breast and pressed kisses between breaths between them.

“Like this?” she whispered. Her fingers rubbed, deliberate and harder, against Eren’s clit. “Or do you want my mouth on you too?”

Eren grit her teeth against a groan as a shiver wracked her body.

“ _Yeah_ ,” she managed to choke out.

Armelle chuckled, for once not being a fucking tease about it and making Eren spell out exactly what she meant by that _yeah_ , that _please_ , that _fuck fuck fuck Armelle fuck_. It made Eren a bit suspicious, honestly, but then Armelle was mouthing at her pussy through the thin fabric of her sleeping pants. Eren swore and tangled her fingers in Armelle’s hair, dragging her face in closer. Armelle went willingly, breathed deep as she stared up at Eren underneath the fall of her hair.

“We’ll have to wash these after,” Armelle murmured against her as her fingers wandered up to pull at the pants’ drawstring. “You’ve gotten them soaked already.”

Eren released her hold on Armelle’s hair long enough to let Armelle tug her pants down and off her legs. Armelle dropped them with a flourish off the side of the bed, and gently traced Eren’s cunt with her fingers. She covered it with her hand, squeezing, before spreading Eren’s thighs wide and squirming between them, hooking one leg under Eren’s thigh and bringing their cunts together, hot and wet and fucking wonderful. Armelle grabbed Eren’s bent knee to anchor herself, and rubbed herself deliberately against Eren’s pussy. Eren swore she could see stars burst behind her eyelids, and her spine bent like a drawn bow.

“Feels good?” Armelle asked, rocking her hips in a steady rhythm, leading Eren’s pace.

“ _Fuck yes_ ,” Eren groaned. Her hands fisted into the sheets, into her own hair, for lack of Armelle’s to tangle themselves in. 

“Good,” Armelle sighed. Her rocking sped up, and her soft little whimpers and _oh_ s became unsteady. “Always…always wanted to try this, but I, I didn’t think – didn’t think I was f-flexible en— _Eren!_ ”

Eren had seized her by the ankles and held her fast around her calves, grinding them together, slick and open. The change in angle brought their clits together, and drew noise from them both. Eren’s orgasm hit her all at once, and she clutched Armelle’s legs desperately to rut out the last few waves of pleasure against her pussy. She saw Armelle’s back bend, and her mouth fall open and her eyes shut, and her body still.

The circumstances had allowed Eren to ignore her exhaustion for a time, but now that she had gotten a face-full of Armelle’s pussy and rubbed off on her, Eren’s body wanted to drag her back down into sleep. Armelle seemed to understand – she always understood. Giving Eren’s breasts one last fond caress, she tugged Eren’s nightshirt back down, and drew the blankets back over her. Armelle kissed her cheek, her forehead.

“Get some more rest,” she whispered. “I’ll get a fresh set of clothes for you and bring some food down.”

Eren’s eyes fluttered shut, barely registering the press of lips against her own. As far as romance went, Armelle had more game than Eren ever would. But she could learn to live with being an eager recipient. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armelle puts on a men's suit and Eren's thirst for pussy intensifies a thousandfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for Eremin Week 2 back in May, for the prompt "Swap". Obviously this means more lesbian sex.

Eren had had it up to here with these past couple months. Traitors and the dead would not grant her a moment’s peace, and now they all lived under constant threat, constant watch. She’d heard whispers from the command that they were poised to overthrow the government, establish a new and righteous order...same cage, different bars. One set of puppet strings for another.

It would have been easier, so much easier, to have just howled for more titans to overwhelm those _traitors, liars, murderers_ , grabbed Armelle and Mikasa, run for the sun setting over the ruined wall. She wouldn’t have had to bear up under more control, more eyes upon her, wouldn’t be losing sleep to thoughts of her new squad (her only family left, only left in the world) broken and snapped and crushed against the forest floor, wouldn’t have to sit here in a locked windowless attic while Jeanne and Armelle were briefed and prepared for yet another substitution mission.

She could have done it. Should have. 

Kristoff ( _Historicus_ , Eren’s mind corrected her) stared at his feet, processed Eren’s words as they fell from her mouth.

“I would have,” he said, quietly. “I would’ve followed him wherever he wanted to run.”

His head lowered to his knees. Eren left it at that, rested her chin on her folded arms, and continued to wait.

A few minutes or an hour, who knew anymore, but Eren had never been more thankful to hear Jeanne’s griping from the floor below her. Eren ran to the door, pounded, and rattled at the locked knob. She’d behaved herself, she’d sat quietly while this strange, confusing plan unfolded (she didn’t understand it, not at all, and she’d asked Armelle but Armelle had just lowered her head and furrowed her brow, and if not even Armelle could understand it—), she’d let Jeanne borrow her clothes and pretend to be her (Eren’s muscles were _way_ bigger, she had no idea how anyone would be fooled), she’d sat there and done absolutely nothing at fucking all while Armelle risked her neck and...

The door unlatched, creaked open. 

“Armelle is waiting for you in the bedroom,” Mikasa said, calm.

Eren’s mind creaked along. She nodded, dumbly, and took the stairs two at a time down.

Eren didn’t know what was waiting for her in here. Her hand clutched the door handle, not moving. Armelle, safe and sound? Armelle, with a black eye blooming from one of the captain’s outbursts? Armelle, here to tell her that she’d been assigned a suicide mission, that she’d accept it for the good of humanity, that she’d be leaving even though Eren needed her so much—

She opened the door slowly.

Armelle, sitting on the bed, in a men’s suit.

Oh. Oh. Okay.

Armelle shifted her legs, resting her ankle atop her knee. Her bow tie was undone, and the tails slithered beneath her unbuttoned shirt to rest between her breasts.

“We were being fitted for our undercover outfits today. Jeanne and I,” Armelle explained. “I suppose this is what I’ll be wearing if I’m ever needed to cover for Historicus at a royal function.”

Armelle smiled, a bit self-consciously.

“They said I need to improve my body language, however. More regal, more manly. I can’t say I disagree.”

“Buh,” Eren said, locked on to Armelle’s open shirt.

Armelle followed Eren’s gaze. Her cheeks colored pink, and the flush spread from cheeks to chest. Eren felt ready to implode.

“Oh,” Armelle said. “Yes, I—we’ll be binding those down. I’ve already taken it off; it’s not very easy to breathe in. Hopefully I won’t ever need to fight undercover. And they’ll need to tailor the waistcoat and jacket...”

Armelle stood up, turned for Eren to see. The black waistcoat outlined the curve of her waist, settled comfortably atop the swell of her ass and hips. Eren beheld the way the trousers hugged her buttcheeks with unchecked reverence. 

“I don’t have much to hide,” Armelle said, with a note of self-depreciation. “But it’s enough to make people suspicious.”

“Look fine this way,” Eren finally managed to say. “Just fine.”

Armelle gave her a too-innocent smile. Eren’s mind was a buzzing white haze of the tie tails between Armelle’s breasts, the curve of her waist, and the curve of her mouth as she approached.

Armin’s hands slid under Eren’s shirt, and up. She smoothed her fingertips underneath the swell of her breasts, and slowly, teasingly, outlined their shape before letting her thumbs brush against their stiff peak. 

“Yours,” Armelle said, low and quiet. “Would be much harder to bundle up.”

Eren groaned through her teeth as Armelle’s fingers circled, pinched. Fuck, she needed – she needed – in a fit of frustrated action, Eren yanked her shirt off over her head in one swift motion. Armelle sighed in appreciation, her hands coming back up to Eren’s breasts. She cupped them each in one hand, tilted her head to the side as she studied them thoughtfully.

_Is it cold in here, or are you just happy to see me?_ Armelle’s eyes seemed to ask as they grew darker blue, half-lidded. Fuck. The touch of Armelle’s tongue and lips against her nipples was relief and further torture. Eren needed to get her to that bed right fucking now before her legs gave out. Thankfully, Armelle was of the same mind, and they stumbled backward until they fell onto the creaking mattress in a tangle of limbs. 

Armelle settled herself, straddling Eren’s hips, and took the tail of her tie between two fingers. She slid it from her neck with a long, slow drag, draped it around Eren’s instead, used it as leverage to yank her up and forward to kiss her properly. Eren moaned in earnest, seized Armelle by the back of her head and sucked at her bottom lip. Eren was presented with a dilemma. She wanted Armelle naked and with her tongue in Eren’s pussy, but that meant she’d have to take off the suit. Eren’s head lolled back as Armelle sucked kisses down her neck. Shit. Eren’s shaking hands came up to yank Armelle’s shirt open further. An acceptable compromise, for now, Eren decided. Armelle leaned forward, letting the sweet, small swell of her breasts rub against Eren’s. She wound the tie around her hands once, twice, so tight that Eren couldn’t move an inch away from Armelle’s mouth, as if Eren wanted to move an inch from Armelle’s mouth, and then fuck, she did, she did, she wanted to suck those pink nipples until Armelle was sobbing and soaking wet through her panties, wanted to yank those fancy pants off of her and feel her grind her pussy against Eren’s tongue until she was shaking and spent. 

Armelle was three steps ahead of her, as usual. Her lips smoothed across Eren’s, fluttered kisses across her cheeks before she drew back, drew lower, undid the button of Eren’s trousers and tugged them, panties and all, to tangle around her ankles. Eren’s fingers clutched at the bed sheets, at Armelle’s hair, as Armelle slid two gentle fingers between the folds of her pussy.

“Wet already,” Armelle commented, as if making a note to herself for future reference, as if she was adding it to her already-huge mental file of “things I can do to make Eren explode all over herself”. Armelle hummed in appreciation, spread Eren open with her two fingers, and licked a long line up to suck at her clit. 

Eren choked out a hoarse moan, fisted her hand into Armelle’s hair, holding her firmly in place. Armelle’s eyes gazed at her, half-mast but still so sharp and rapt, drinking in Eren’s every reaction as she slid two fingers into her cunt to fuck her while she sucked. The blue of them sent shivers down Eren’s spine, the firm circles of Armelle’s tongue around her clit and her fingers fucking her hard and fast sent shocks of pleasure up it. It was all Eren could do to keep her fist tangled into Armelle’s golden hair, Armelle moaning at every tug, mouth and tongue working like she couldn’t get enough of the taste and the tugging, wet hot tongue and wet hot fingers swapping places to rub while Armelle’s tongue licked into her cunt. Eren’s hips jerked into it helplessly, and Armelle’s free hand dove in to grab her ass, grip firm and guiding Eren’s wild bucking so her tongue could lick deeper, deeper, until Eren fell apart, shaking and cursing and sobbing out Armelle’s name, again, again.

When Eren was lucid enough, Armelle came back into her field of vision. She was lying between Eren’s legs, chin resting on Eren’s lower belly. Armelle smiled at her sweetly.

“I suppose that’s a ‘yes’ to the suit?”

Armelle was perfectly positioned for Eren to squish her face between her thighs. She did so. For a moment, it was all soft skin, round cheeks, the sound of Armelle’s surprised squeak of laughter. And Eren could forget about cages, puppets, lost opportunities, lost past lost future, as she let herself laugh, laid Armelle out on the pillow beneath her, and buried her face in the wet warmth between her thighs.


End file.
